lassarina: (Lulu - No Tears)
[personal profile] lassarina posting in [community profile] rose_in_winter
Characters: Lulu
Rating: G
Contains: Endgame spoilers
Wordcount: 571
Notes: Written for the prompt "Contemplative."
Betas: None
Summary: Having the time to think was a strange and unaccustomed luxury.

Having the time to think was a strange and unaccustomed luxury.

It could also be a curse.

Lulu stood in the center of her tent in Besaid and looked around. Nothing was out of place. She had already been to the market, one of the first ones there, and gotten the foodstuffs she needed for the week that she couldn't pick herself from the communal orchards and gardens that the village maintained. She had spent the week since Yuna's speech in Luca aggressively restoring her life to some semblance of order after so long on the road, but now there was nothing left to do. Perhaps later she might walk down to the beach, taking the time to keep the path free of fiends, but she had just done so last night, and they did not multiply so quickly.

She had run out of reasons to stop thinking, and she did not know what to do now.

Yuna had instructed her not to worry, with false cheer and a smile that cracked at the edges, and as much as Lulu wanted to argue with her about it, Yuna was her own woman now, and grief was a private thing. Lulu should know, after Chappu. She had her own grief to process now - the loss of Sir Auron, and her sorrow for Yuna's losses - and she had been studiously avoiding it.

Out of habit, she left her tent and walked to the temple. Before she left Besaid, the temple had always been crowded with villagers and pilgrims alike, and those who braved the dangers of Sin on the open sea to pray to Yevon in this most humble of temples. Now she met no one on the path up to the temple courtyard, and the silence inside shocked her. The fayth no longer sang.

She had never stood in a temple without that song. Gooseflesh spotted her arms beneath her sleeves, and she fought the urge to run her hands over them. It was foolish to be chilled by the silence, when that silence was a marker of a victory no one could have foreseen because no one had ever questioned it.

They owed Tidus much, for driving them to ask what they had never dared.

She was alone in the temple, with even the priests missing. She began a slow circuit of the room, pausing to read the plaque at the base of each of the four statues. There had been so many lives spent on pilgrimages, by summoners and guardians alike, and only these four success stories were preserved in stone for all Spira to see. Lady Ginnem might have stood here, had Lulu not failed her.

She let the sorrow come, and blinked it away. That failure had paved the way to save Yuna. She mourned Lady Ginnem, but she could not wish that failure away. Had she made it all the way to Zanarkand with Lady Ginnem, she knew in her heart that that summoner could not have challenged Yunalesca as her namesake had.

"Such a waste," she murmured to Lord Braska's statue, which did not answer her.

She turned away from the door that led into the Cloister and slowly went to one of the seats arranged in ranks behind the statues. She sat, rigidly correct, hands folded in her lap, and it was there, in the silence of an abandoned temple, that she let herself grieve.

I'd never thought...

Date: 2017-05-01 06:57 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] rosa_heartlily
'What would the Temples be like without the Fayth?'. The stillness and silence would be eerie, unsettling, after a lifetime of listening to the song. I'm sure some of Lulu's grief must be for her lost beliefs. After all, she is such a strong believer at the beginning, never questioning what she has been taught.

A poignant little fic. Thanks for sharing.


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